Did she forget something at the office? She came home with her carry-on last night, which means she plans to actually start sleeping in her bed.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door. I lower my lipstick. “Come on in.”
Sasha appears. “Can I borrow a couple of tampons?” she says, exasperated. “I thought I had some, but I’m out.”
“Yeah, sure.” I go to the bathroom and grab a handful for her.
“Thanks. You’re the best!” She rushes out.
I watch her go, then look down at myself. Sasha and I have the same cycle, more or less. Sometimes she’s a day early; sometimes I am. But after having lived together for almost two years, we’re basically synced.
But I’m not feeling anything that indicates I’m about to start mine anytime soon. Sometimes I’m late when I’m stressed or not sleeping well, but I haven’t had any of that. I mean… I was sick over the weekend, but that wouldn’t be enough to delay my period… Would it?
Well, Aunt Flo is a fickle bitch. I try to shrug it off, since it’s not like I can force myself to start menstruating. Thankfully, I don’t have to think much about anything except work. Emmett spent the entire weekend taking care of me while I recovered, then left early on Monday for a Chicago business trip. So I’m the one in charge of the small water filter company team. Also, I need to wrap up the next phase of the Drone work. Which means I don’t have time mull over why I’m not bleeding like a stuck pig.
After lunch, I get a text from Marion.
–Marion: I hope you got the offer letter.
–Me: I did. Thanks.
–Marion: Did you have a chance to review the terms?
–Me: Not yet.
I wasn’t opening that envelope while Emmett was around.
–Marion: If you have questions, you can always reach out to me.
–Me: Okay. I appreciate that.
–Marion: I know you’re interviewing elsewhere, and you’re a candidate in high demand.
–Marion: Before you accept an offer from a different firm, I want you to contact me. We can always match or do better for you.
I blink a little. That’s…flexible of them. Maybe they really need a new body at the Blaire Group.
–Me: Okay. Thanks!
I make a mental note to review the offer in more detail later and go back to work. A little after two thirty, Emmett texts me. I smile as I read it.
–Emmett: Everything going well?
–Me: Yeah. Everything’s on track. How are the meetings?
–Emmett: Boring. Wish I’d brought you with me.
I try not to laugh. I can picture him sighing with annoyance. All right. Time to cheer him up a little.
–Me: You have Jerry with you. Didn’t he amuse you with 2000 pictures of his daughter?
–Emmett: The baby’s cute, but I’m not into other people’s kids, especially when the stories are about drool and diaper changes. Plus, he’s not you. You’re more fun to be around.
I can feel my smile widen. It isn’t every day somebody says I’m more fun to be around. Most would say I’m more practical or methodical or preplanned or something.
Still, I don’t mind. It’s sort of nice to hear somebody say I’m fun.
He’s a guy. He’s thinking sex.